


to pretend

by toadsica



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Freak Show
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gunshot Wounds, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Murder, Self-Esteem Issues, guess whos a sucker for the mask trope, nothing explicit but yknow, you get 3 guesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 01:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15938711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toadsica/pseuds/toadsica
Summary: "You're very mysterious, Clown." He pulls a face. Twisty snorts. "I barely know anything about you, and yet we've killed people together. That has to mean something."Twisty shakes his head. It really, really doesn't. He's only barely able to ignore the part of him that really, really wishes it did. Maybe even thinks it does.





	to pretend

**Author's Note:**

> so im getting into twisty/dandy (twandy? is that what its called? i am wee fool) and im really into both a) mutual healing and b) dysfunctional but loving relationships  
> i really wanna like. explore both ways their relationship could go??? but also im FOOL and weak and will probably never write anything ever again  
> dandy's mental illness was really poorly handled in the show and i think his character could've turned out a lot better if he was displayed as more than just "blatant psychopath"  
> i firmly believe dandy has more layers (like shrek) than that and that his violent tendancies/intrusive thoughts/impulsive behavior has a deeper cause, because spoilt brat tropes are so fucking boring

The fire was only vaguely warm, bringing bright heat to the front of Twisty's looming form but not the rest. His back was cold with the night air, harsh and unforgiving, much like the world he lived in. It was often, in these quiet moments by the fire alone, that he got terribly philisophical. He hated it, but he couldn't help it: his mind wandered when he had nothing to think about.

Except, he did have something to think about. The company.

"Why do you wear that mask around, all the time?" Dandy pipes up through the silence and it makes Twisty want to strangle him. "It seems awfully tiresome."

Dandy Mott was an...interesting person. Annoying, stubborn, and a bit of a brat: someone who never really grew up because he didn't have the choice to grow up. His mother did her best, Twisty could tell, but she didn't know how to raise a child past...childhood, really. She wasn't able to guide Dandy into adult life, so he remained immature and childish, full of equal parts curiosity and wonder at so many things around him. It would be charming, it _was_ charming, if he didn't manage to make himself such a nuiscance.

He was filled with this unabashed and unbridled sense of _entitlement_ and greed, furious bloodlust at everyone and everything: and Twisty could almost understand it. He was babied by his mother, shunned by his nanny, and had almost no interaction with the outside world other than what and who was inside that big, expensive mansion of his. He was angry at the world for never showing him any better than something he hated.

The question of the mask was a topic Twisty hoped he'd never have to endure with Dandy. He would be relentless if he said no, demanding and then begging for him to take it off or at least tell him why he wore it. He hadn't known Dandy for long, but he'd ran around circles with him countless times: he was persistent. It was annoying. Twisty only grunted and looked back down at the fire.

"You continue to enrapture me with your delightful conversation," Dandy rolled his eyes, the dry sarcasm obvious in his tone. "Won't you take it off?"

Twisty looked up to Dandy, and shook his head, nearly growling with how furiously he objected.

"Why not?" He tilted his head in a way that Twisty would never admit was almost cute. Almost. "You can't be hiding much. At least, nothing I haven't seen before."

He doesn't even know the _half_ of it. Dandy simply gives him a look, eyes full of mischief and schemes, and then stands up out of his chair. He takes long, slow strides toward Twisty with those long, lean legs of his. He stops right in front of his chair and crouches down, balancing on his toes.

"You're very mysterious, Clown." He pulls a face. Twisty snorts. "I barely know anything about you, and yet we've _killed_ people together. That has to mean something."

Twisty shakes his head. It really, really doesn't. He's only barely able to ignore the part of him that really, really wishes it did. Maybe even thinks it does.

"I don't know why you wear your mask," He lifts a finger and taps the side of it. Twisty flinches and fights the instinct to break his fragile wrist (Twisty could probably crush every bone in his body, if he really wanted). "But whatever the reason, I'm certain it's not so terrible you can't show me."

Twisty is almost convinced. Almost. Maybe showing Dandy his greatest shame would drive him away, or something to at least deter him from being this insistent about _everything_. It's something to ponder, at least, and Twisty certainly ponders. In the end, he realizes there's nothing left for him to lose. He's not even sure if "his dignity" even counts as something he _can_ lose. It's already gone.

He reaches big, calloused hands behind his head and unties the mask, shuddering slightly as he takes it off negligently. He fears. His chest sinks to the bottom of his stomach and his hands shake as he pulls it off of his face. He doesn't want to do this. ~~He doesn't want Dandy to leave.~~

Dandy stares. He stares, and he's quiet, and he doesn't really say anything. Twisty can almost space it out, leave himself to his self-hating thoughts, but he's drawn sharply back to reality when a gentle pressure creeps up the side of his open, bloody, decayed maw. It's Dandy's hand: lithe and gentle and soft, stained barely with blood.

"Why hide something so _wonderful..._ " Enraptured is the only way he can describe the look Dandy gives him. It's strange, it makes Twisty _feel_ strange. He should just tell him the truth, tell him it's disgusting, that _he's_ disgusting, that he deserves everything he got and that he should crawl back into whatever hell he came out of and rot there.

The insults never come. Dandy, eventually, retracts his hand and curls his fingers slightly, staring down at the ground, lost in thought. Twisty nearly jumps when Dandy inhales a shaky breath and rests his palms on his own thighs where he's crouched against the half-dead grass. "I think that's enough, for tonight."

Twisty puts his mask back on and Dandy stands up, placing a hand on the arm of Twisty's beaten-up lawn chair, "I'm going home, Clown. I will visit in the morning, but you are welcome to join me, as always."

He watches Dandy walk down the small, paved hiking trail, before pushing out of his chair and following him into the night.


End file.
